


The Look in His Eyes

by hinatot



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Hannibal (TV), Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: F/F, F/M, Hannibal AU, In which I enjoy inflicting emotional pain on myself and others, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 15:05:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1652906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hinatot/pseuds/hinatot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He loved the hope that he saw in the eyes of others when they fought against the odds. He became addicted to that hope, to seeing the burning passion that drove humans forward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Begin to Face the Day

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever posted fic on this site, and since it's been years since I've published anything, feedback would be greatly appreciated!

As Hinata steps up to the blood splatter on the wall, he inhales through his nose, tasting the metallic tang in the back of his throat. Closing his eyes, in his mind he imagines himself growing long, greasy black hair, his eyes darkening to a striking blood red. This is not Hajime Hinata, he tells himself. This is the psychopath who walks in the steps of his kind.

The thrum of a pendulum. Hinata steps back, out of the man, and watches the scene become clear of blood, bodies, and officers. The black haired man exits the house through the damaged door, Hinata following along after. They turn back in unison to the small suburban house, now filled with light and the distant hum of a television.

The black haired man steps forward, forcing the doorknob open, the noise drawing one of the occupants of the house toward the entrance, and Hinata begins to speak, his eyes never leaving the man's figure.

"I shoot Mr. Otonashi with surgical precision, severing his spine from his neck at the base." The man lifts his gun to the inhabitant of the house, shooting without hesitation. "He will live for a moment; I missed his arteries, but he will soon die from blood flooding his lungs." Mr. Otonashi collapses, his mouth gaping open in the shapes of words that will never take life, his eyes wide and fixed on the dark haired man. "He watches me walk into the dining room, where I hear his wife push back her chair. This is my design.

"Mrs. Otonashi stumbles over the edge of the carpet in her hurry. She heard the shot but is in denial up to the point when I walk up and shoot out her throat where her vocal cords reside." The man presses the barrel of the pistol to the woman's throat and pulls the trigger. She collapses to her knees, clutching her throat. "She will live long enough to see me put the gun to her forehead." The gun goes off again, and the woman falls with a thud. "This is my design."

The man turns and walks to the nearby security control panel, glancing at the keys before rapidly entering a short string of numbers. "I have been watching them. I know that their 15th anniversary was two weeks ago." The panel beeps, a green light blinking to confirm the security system’s reset and the halt of any message sent to the authorities about a break in. "Their deaths will not be noticed until I am long gone. This is my design."

The pendulum starts up again. Thrum. Thrum. The man faces Hinata and fades, his burning eyes digging into Hinata's, the last part to disappear. Hinata opens his eyes, the sounds of the crime scene returning to his sphere of consciousness.

The murderer was caught four hours later.

* * *

pro

  
"Hello, Hajime!" A friendly voice calls from the doorway to Hinata's office. A young, short man in a suit stands there, smiling over at the desk where Hinata sits behind.

Hinata sends an exasperated look to the shorter man, silently giving the message ‘you know we’ve been over this before’. Once he feels his point has gotten across, he returns his eyes to the stack of ungraded papers in front of him, an unhappy frown bordering a scowl on his face.

"Sorry, Hinata, right," The young man corrects himself, walking into the room without invitation. Hinata sighs but says nothing else until he finishes scribbling editing notes on an honestly horrible essay on Stockholm Syndrome, before glancing up. The same unhappy expression remains, directed at the man in front of him.

"What is it, Naegi?"

"You know it's fine to call me Makoto," Naegi reminds Hinata, before clearing his throat and continuing, though he averts his eyes from the scowl the tired criminal psychology professor sends his way. "I wanted to ask for your help."

"What does the head of the FBI Behavioral Science Unit want from some grad school teacher?" Hinata asks, knowing the answer, and knowing the surprisingly sharp Naegi knows he knows.

Naegi takes the files he had been carefully hiding behind his back and sets them on Hinata's desk. "Seven boys, seven campuses, seven months. All gone without a trace," he says quietly, sadness entering his usually bright eyes for a moment, before the mask of happiness and the shield of hope spring back into place.

Hinata glances at the files and grimaces slightly. It's always more unpleasant when they're just kids, he thinks. Within the files there rested a profile of each young man, pictures of the crime scene, and an autopsy report, stamped with the official seal stating its authenticity. After glancing through the files, he speaks.

"Same hair and eye colors, black for both. Same bulky body builds, same ages, same heights."

"It's a pretty obvious pattern, but we can't find anything to connect each one, or any traces of them after they disappear," Naegi provides, walking around the desk to glance at the files over Hinata's shoulder.

"It's not a pattern, not quite," Hinata says after a moment of thought. "The murder, they're looking for a specific someone. They want one person in particular, but they're going through all these guys to try to find them. Or substitute them."

Hinata pulls open the latest report, noting its origin from earlier that day. The file reads "Santa Shikiba", a botany student from the nearby university. According to the report, he had been heading home for his spring holiday to house sit for his single mother and work on his current university project.

"I'm guessing you'll be taking me there," Hinata mutters with a hint of tired annoyance at the job he was about to take on, while Naegi nods his head with resolve in his eyes. Hinata grimaces but stands up. "I hope you know I don't like to be sociable."

* * *

  
"We're so sorry for your loss, Ms. Shikiba," Naegi says, gently reaching out a comforting hand to the devastated mother. Hinata ignores them and pokes around at the plants on the windowsill. Standing in the living room of the Shikiba family’s small suburban home, Hinata runs his fingers through the soil of each of the potted plants lining the three windows of the spotless, whitewashed living room. Naegi and the woman ignore Hinata’s antisocial behaviors, speaking in hushed tones. The shaking woman accepts the hand on the shoulder, choking out a muffled, "bless you" to Naegi through her tears.

"I'm so sorry I'm such a wreck," she says through sniffles and gasps. "It's just... Santa was my whole life..."

As Naegi continues to console the now former mother, Hinata sticks his hands into the soil of each pot and tears the tips of some leaves, earning glares from the other officer who accompanied him and Naegi.

"He came here," Hinata announces before the officer can shoo him from the sill. He continues, stopping any questions that threaten to emerge from their throats. "He took the late bus from the university last night. He watered these plants, see, the hibiscus and the autumn fern. They need to be watered every day and these are still healthy, but the soil is dry. He watered them last night," Hinata looks up from the plants. "He was taken from here."

Naegi steps away, flipping his phone open so quickly Hinata is mildly surprised it doesn’t snap. "We need more officers here and forensics teams, this place is a crime scene." Ms. Shikiba turns so pale she looks ready to faint.

As Naegi snaps the phone shut, Hinata speaks again, in a low murmur more carefully neutral than his usual voice. "Ms. Shikiba. May I go into your son's room?"  
She looks worried and confused, her puffy red eyes adding to her already slightly pathetic appearance. "Why? The police were there earlier but said there were no traces. Do you think they missed something? If you think it will help..."

Hinata doesn’t reply, but steps away from the windowsill and up to the door of the Santa’s room. He pauses with his hand on the knob. "Mrs. Shikiba, please put your hands in your pockets and do not touch anything."

Mrs. Shikiba lets out a choked sob as Hinata opens the door, his suspicions confirmed. Propped up in a chair by the windowsill sits the corpse of Santa Shikiba, cables wrapped around him, tying him to the chair and keeping him upright. They resemble climbing vines on an ancient statue, the last lines holding the facade of life in place.

Covering her mouth, Mrs. Shikiba stumbles back out of the room, tears streaming anew from her face. Minutes later, the police arrive at the scene with a team of forensic investigators and two detectives. Hinata stands in the middle of the room as Naegi convinces the newcomers to stay out of the room for just a few minutes.

"Just tell us when you're done," Naegi says quietly as he closes the door, a soft click resounding in the room.

After Hinata runs through the events of the scene- just as he'd suspected, Santa had come home, taken care of his plants, and sat on the chair his corpse sat on now before an intruder, small but strong, came in through the window, drugged him, and took him, returning later to tie the body to the chair in my design, my design- and when the black haired figure in his mind fades, and the pendulum swings return him to the present, he steps out of the door without a word.

The forensic team rushes in and immediately begins to catalogue and photograph everything on the scene, a few of them sending uneasy glances or outright glares in Hinata’s direction. He pays them no mind. The two detectives loiter outside, waiting for their turn on the scene.

Hinata returns to the windowsill he had been at before, staring out at the forest behind the house and ignoring the short female detective standing nearby staring intently at her phone.

"...Chiaki Nanami," She says slowly, as if she was half asleep, after a moment of silence. Hinata replies with his own continued silence, without bothering to glance at her. "That's my name. And you're Hajime Hinata. But you're not the FBI or police."

Hinata nods in response, realizing this woman, though absentminded, wouldn't be going anywhere or giving up. "Why are you not part of the FBI if you're obviously helping?" She muses in a voice that almost sounds rhetorical.

Hinata eventually tears his eyes from counting the leaves on the flowering dogwood outside to look at Nanami, whose eyes remain glued to the screen of her phone. "The FBI has certain screening procedures, which I don't exactly... pass. Not that I want to be part of it."

"Screening for instability. So you're instable." She states, her fingers flying across the screen as she glances up, tired but sharp eyes meeting Hinata's for the first time.  
As Hinata prepares a scathing response, Naegi steps out of the victim's bedroom. "Ah, Hinata, I see you've met Chiaki. She's one of our best detectives, so you two should be working together a lot."

Hinata stares, unimpressed, at Naegi. "I guessed this wouldn't be a one-time thing, but 'a lot' was a just a bit more than I'd wanted."

Naegi shrugs apologetically, before turning all business. "Nanami, you and the other detective are allowed in now. He went on ahead. Hajime-" "It's Hinata." "Hinata, thoughts?"

As Nanami departs the room, Hinata begins to recount his experiences watching his other self, his black haired persona, reenact the world of the past. "...The attacker is probably male, judging from upper body strength, but could still be female. Small but strong. Came in through the window quietly enough that they were able to drug Santa from behind." Naegi nods. Forensics had found traces of chloroform on the boy's nose and mouth. Cliche but effective. "They killed him in his sleep, strangled- with the cords used to tie him, probably."

"But why did they return to the scene of the crime, and with the body?" Naegi asks. “Sloppy for someone who was so careful until now.”

"An apology."

"Apology?"

"They messed up. They didn't get what he wanted, and felt bad. They brought him home, they made him at home with his plants, they gave him vines keeping him alive."

"But why?"

Hinata stops, turning his gaze back out the window pensively. He imagines he sees his reflection’s eyes flash red, just for a second. "That's the million dollar question now, isn't it?"

* * *

  
"It's just... they're all so loud. So loud, all the time," the young man says, the beanie covering his bright pink hair slipping down with every word that rattles through his body to exit his mouth. "I can't stand it... sometimes, I, I just want them to die. Oh god, am, am I a psychopath?"

A calming smile comes from the white haired man sitting across from him in a plush armchair, before fading to a serious but kind look. "No, Souda, you're not. It's perfectly fine to feel such things as long as you recognize they are problematic and do not act on them." He leans forward, moving his hands from resting under his chin to clasping between his knees. "Everyone has thought about killing someone, one way or another, be it by your own hand or the hand of God."

Souda makes a sound of relief and anxiety, halfway between a sigh and a whimper. Tears that had been forming in his eyes begin to fade, bit by bit.

"You know, Souda," the white haired man begins, leaning back into his chair, "I read a lot before I became a psychiatrist. When I was little, I would always tell people everything that was wrong, but I would be unsure. It was always, 'at least, that's what I read in this book.'"

Souda looks up, a little confused as to the sudden change in conversation.

"My problem was with self-esteem issues. I projected strong, but on the inside I was as delicate as a feather." The man closes his eyes, another calm smile lifting his lips. "People would call me, ah... 'creepy', a 'freak'. I took these to heart and internalized them; I let them weigh me down and pull me into despair, so even when the people weren't there, the words lingered. However, you, Souda," he looks up at the pink haired man on the couch. "You listen to what is not there, and you let it tear you apart. These feelings come from frustration, not despair, and in some ways, that is better, because while your feelings will cause you pain, they can be healed in a way despair cannot."

Souda lets his arms droop, his tense legs relaxing to hang calmly instead of jump up and down. "I... yeah. Yeah, that makes sense... I just. I wish I wasn't like this. I wish I wasn't so neurotic." His voice comes out a little choked, like he was afraid he might start crying at any second.

"If you weren't neurotic, Souda," the psychiatrist begins, "You would be something worse. Our brain is designed to experience anxiety in short bursts, not constantly like yours does. You just need to teach it that not everything is out to get you. And I'll be here to help all the way."

Souda lets a tentative smile lift his lips. "Thank you, Dr. Komaeda."

Nagito Komaeda returns the smile by widening his own, joy flickering in his cold eyes. "My pleasure. After all, you are not just my patient, but my friend, Souda. And," Komaeda stands up after glancing at the clock on the wall, showing the hour was up. Souda follows suit. "Because you are my friend, I think I would like to invite you to my house for an exquisite, stress-free dinner. Though," A wink, "I must warn you, it is by no means vegetarian."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used the script of the first episode of Hannibal, Aperitif, as reference for this chapter. I'm also basing many character roles after roles in the TV show. However, after this chapter I will not be using the scripts, and after the beginning this story will be going in a different direction from the TV show.  
> Any feedback would be wonderful!


	2. Tea Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is about four months later than I'd hoped...  
> Slow plot development, character building, and heavily implied cannibalism in here. Things will pick up in the next chapter a bit, which hopefully will take infinitely less time than this did.

Humans were always beautiful to Nagito Komaeda, inside and out; and not just in the metaphorical sense. The strength they always find to move on, the soaring hope that appears in their eyes at the sight of opportunity, the look of desperation as they fight against the odds. Ever since he was a young boy, Komaeda was fascinated with humanity.

Komaeda was a smart kid, though his grades never showed it. He never excelled in any one subject, but he did find himself particularly adept at two things in particular: stumbling upon fortunes, good and bad, and reading those around him. The world was an open book to him, and luckily, he was a ravenous reader.

But reading only quells the appetite so much.

Straightening his back and stepping away from his desk to stretch, Komaeda takes a break from his work and reminiscing. His neck pops  in protest as he bends down to organize the few, invisible flaws in the lines of the papers on his desk, before neatly bustling them away into the drawers of his wooden desk.

An interesting day,  he thinks to himself with a serene smile on his lips.

He taps thoughtfully on his desk, re-reading the email left open on his laptop, introducing him to one college-professor-slash-FBI-consultant, Hajime Hinata. The email, sent by an old friend by the name of Makoto Naegi, explains Hinata’s situation and requests Komaeda come and meet the young professor. Not that Komaeda needs to double check the facts of the email; he has already memorized every word.

An interesting day indeed.

 

* * *

“I am  fine.  I do not need a psychiatrist to use all the tricks I’ve learned into giving me a false sense of security. I am  perfectly stable.”  Hinata punctuates every other word of his sentence with the sound of his fingernails violently scraping against the hardwood table.

“Hajime-“ A glare. “ Hinata,  you are not fine. It’s ok to be invested in work…” Naegi gives Hinata a pitiful look. Hinata resists the urge to strangle the shorter man. “…but you haven’t slept in two days, and haven’t eaten in longer. It’s not healthy.”

“I can decide for myself what is healthy for me, thank you very much,” Hinata snapped. “Do I have to remind you I earned a  degree,  through sheer force of will, in the fiel-“

“If I may interrupt,” A third voice, much calmer than the other two, chimes in. Hinata mutters a half-hearted  no you may not  under his breath, but lets the man talk. “I will not take you on as a patient if you are so opposed to it. However, I will offer my friendship; in a time as stressful as this, perhaps a person to lean on could be more helpful than any therapist.” Komaeda raises an eyebrow, a smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Hinata’s frown would deepen if it was possible at this point, but voices no objections. After an awkward minute of silence and feet shuffling, Komaeda lets a beam rise to his face. “Very well! It seems we have reached an agreement that is, ah, agreeable for all of us.”

Hinata lets his frown dissipate, though his face still remains far from happy. “Yeah, ok…”

“Wonderful!” Naegi exclaims, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree. “Thank you, both of you. This is really a load off my back, knowing Hinata’ll have someone to look out for him.”

The two taller men show varying degrees of smiles in response to the young director’s upswing in mood- he had that effect on people, even on the ever-grumpy Hinata.

“I need to get back to my office now, files to categorize and the likes. You two should get acquainted, and when you’re done, drop by my office, will you?”

Naegi rushes out before he sees a response. The previously light mood rushes out along with him, and Hinata shifts uncomfortably under the somehow unnerving stare of Dr. Komaeda.

“Well,” Hinata says after a moment.

“Well indeed,” Komaeda replies with a chuckle. “Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll prepare us some tea?”

Hinata moved from the desk he had been leaning over to sit on the overly plush couch. Komaeda disappeared into a back room behind Komaeda’s desk, and during the few minutes he was gone, Hinata took in the surroundings he’d been too annoyed to notice before.

A single dark wooden desk sat towards the back of the fairly spacious room. Three armchairs sat around a sleek glass table at one end of the room, their dark wooden arms matching the legs of the table. The other end of the room held a simple black cloth couch, where Hinata finds himself, across from another arm chair, likely where Komaeda talked to his patients.

Despite the dark, warm colors and the arrangement of furniture to create a cozy space, the place felt cold and empty. Everything was completely, immaculately clean. Barely a speck of dust was visible. The smell of antiseptic filled the room, and reminded Hinata of a hospital room.

“My apologies for keeping you waiting,” the voice approaches Hinata from across the room, accompanied by the white-haired Komaeda.

“It’s fine,” Hinata replies curtly, taking a cup of tea off the tray when offered.

Komaeda smiles contentedly, but something about the tilt of his head bothers Hinata. It feels almost like Komaeda is looking at him like a pet, or livestock. He holds back a shudder, quickly shifting his gaze to the cup now in his hands.

Komaeda sits down next to Hinata, sitting just a little too close. Hinata looks away, pretending not to notice the dip in the couch next to him. He swears he sees Komaeda’s smile gain a hint of wickedness from the corner of his eye, but he dismisses it as his imagination. Why would he smile like that at Hinata? He'd always been told he's too distrustful of others, after all.

“It’s black tea, I hope you don’t mind. I’ve brought a few snacks too, though I’m afraid they’re just a few scraps of meat I was able to form into an appetizer.”

The tea is delicious and the small, meaty morsels look and taste like something out of a five-star restaurant.

At the conclusion of the awkwardly silent visit, Hinata being too unnerved to say anything and Komaeda remaining apparently oblivious to Hinata’s untrusting air, Hinata stands up and goes to leave, before uttering a quick, “The meal was good. Best meat I’ve ever had.”

Komaeda remains smiling at the hastily slammed door for several minutes after Hinata left. “Yes, he is quite delicious, isn’t he?”

Komaeda laughs at his own joke, before mentally mapping his next move regarding Hinata.

It’s about time I had some fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the wait! Hopefully things will go smoother from here on out, writing-wise.


	3. A/N: Update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author's note. Please check if you followed this story.

A/N: Hello everyone! Hinatot here with a huge apology. It's been... two years?? Well.

I don't really have an excuse other than wow school happened and it happened hard. However, now, as a second semester senior, I've decided to take this back.

In short: The Look in His Eyes is NOT dead.

Unlike half the cast.

Hopefully the update will come soon, and I have some other things to write as well! Hooray, I'll actually (maybe) be active on here. Until then~


	4. Closer

When Hinata checks in at the laboratory where the forensic traces are being analyzed later that week, he’s somehow not surprised to find Komaeda there.

A polite smile. “It’s nice to see you again, Hinata,” Komaeda greets him.

Hinata doesn’t bother to spare him another glance, just pulls on a pair of surgical gloves and a hair net while walking into the examination room so he can get closer to the body without forensics yelling at him.

“Tell me what you know.”

One of the forensics members beckons Hinata over so she could show him the body and the team’s findings.

“The victim was pressed to the ground, pinned while the killer wrapped one of the cords around his neck,” Celestia states, gesturing at bruises on the neck and face. “Bruising indicates a large amount of weight was on the victim’s back, his front against a staircase or similar structure.” She runs a gloved finger along the horizontal bruises, vividly blue and purple in death, as she talks.

Her partner pulls off his soiled gloves with a snap from across the room, shouting while pulling on a new pair to make sure he was heard. “Do not forget, he was likely unconscious!” Ishimaru’s voice echoes in the sterile room. “No signs of a struggle or defensive wounds!”

“Yes, I was getting to that, moron,” Celes snaps in response, her calm facade cracking for a second and reminding Hinata why she preferred to work in the presence of the dead than the living. He decides to butt in before things escalated between the two.

“Any posthumous wounds?”

“Excellent question, Special Agent Hinata!” If he didn't know better, Hinata would think Ishimaru was about to give him a gold star for contributing to a classroom discussion in kindergarten. Lucky for him, the forensic investigator’s echoing voice as he strode up to the body derailed that train of thought quickly enough.

“Examine the head,” He tugz the hair on top of the head apart to reveal a sizable dent in the cranium. “Clotting and bruising patterns suggest a heavy object striking Mr. Shikiba after he was already dead. It is unlikely the culprit thought he was still alive with the amount of force exerted on his neck.” Hinata nods, making a mental note, but Ishimaru wasn't done. Celes taps her foot impatiently, and listening to the rambling examiner meant he almost ignores the other tapping at the door to the room.

Naegi cracks open the door. “Hajime-” Hinata opens his mouth to object but didn’t get a chance to. “-when you’re done, I have a job for you.” And like that he was out. Hinata snorts. _Could you be a bit more vague?_   he snaps in his mind.

Oh well. At least he still got to hang out with the weird medical examiners and the dead body a bit longer before he had to be with the _really_ unpleasant people.

 

* * *

 

Hinata skulks into the conference room Naegi was waiting in, Dr. Komaeda following cheerfully behind. Just as Hinata had suspected, he had been waiting just outside the autopsy room and immediately and _oh so helpfully_  supplied where Naegi had gone and offered to accompany him to their mutual acquaintance.

The annoying bastard.

The pair sit down at two of the many chairs scattered around the large circular table dominating the room. Naegi was already seated, flipping through files up until the moment they sat down. An unusually serious expression came across the usually cheerful man’s face, and Hinata felt himself immediately straighten up a bit.

“Hajime,” he begins, his tone so serious Hinata pardoned the fact that Naegi had used his first name. “I’ve talked to one of your aides from the school, and they informed me that you’re beginning to fixate.”

Oh, _that’s_  what this was about.

“I want to catch the Cable Constrictor as much as anyone,” he continues. _Oh, so the serial killer has a name now_. Hinata tries to focus on the ironic name to quell his rising annoyance. “But I don’t want to lose you in the process.”

Dr. Komaeda nods beside Hinata. Hinata shoots a glare in his direction, snapping out a hasty, “I know my limits the best. I’m fine. Completely fine.”

“I beg to differ, Mr. Hinata,” Komaeda murmurs. If they hadn’t been talking about murder and the impending doom of insanity, he could almost have been speaking in a bedroom voice, Hinata thinks. Almost a more disturbing thought than being taken off the case.

“Signs of stress are beginning to show even to your students,” Hinata makes to interject again, but Komaeda raises his hand to placate him. “However, I think dropping the subject would, in my professional opinion, cause more harm than good. Therefore, it is my recommendation that you take a short break- A vacation, if you will- before returning to the case.”

Hinata stares. Naegi sits quietly, nodding in approval. _They had planned this_ , Hinata thought. _They planned this, they’re conspiring against me, they-_

He takes a breath, and prepares his mind for his argument, hoping he would sound more reasonable than angry, even if it was a lie of his actual state.

He opens his mouth.

 

* * *

 

“I’m so glad you agreed to take a break, Mr. Hinata,” Dr. Komaeda says cheerfully as he walks alongside Hinata, each of them carrying a box of fliers and other papers.

“Fuck off,” he mutters in reply. Komaeda only chuckles at his foul mood, striding on ahead to set his box on the table set up for the university in the spacious high school auditorium.

“And I’m glad you will have more of a chance to interact normally with the people of this world. I think this can be a great opportunity for your personal growth.”

 _There’s a reason I don’t, idiot._ Hinata holds his tongue. He had already learned there was no getting through to the young doctor, despite his friendly demeanor.

Not for the first or last time, Hinata cursed his life. Cursed Naegi and Komaeda for ganging up on him and forcing him to take a break. Cursed Professor Matsuda for having to “go to a conference” and pushing the responsibility for representing the Hope’s Peak University of Criminal and Forensic Sciences at this stupid fair. Cursed his job for taking him away from the only ones he cared about, sleeping comfortably in cages throughout his home.

But right now, he mostly cursed Komaeda.

The two settle behind the booth minutes before students begin pouring in. _The only good thing about Komaeda being here,_ Hinata thinks, leaning back and glaring at a group of loud, gossiping teenagers passing by, _Is at least I don’t have to do any of the talking._

A few students try to talk with him throughout the day, wanting to get to know the professor who apparently also helped the FBI.

A lanky boy asks if he had ever shot a gun, stabbed a man, or watched a person die. He looks far too excited, far too invested in hearing any gory details, and Hinata decides to not even dignify him with an answer.

A petite girl wonders if he worked so well because his mind was as twisted as the criminals. He shoots her a weird look as she glances over the fliers, murmuring, “Like me.”

A group of freshman heckles him about his hair. Some kids try to learn more about his course in specific. He was content to glare and let Dr. Komaeda attempt to salvage things. The only thing he was good for.

When the circle of hell known as “college fairs” finally comes to a close, Hinata is more than happy to return to his home. He is greeted  by a chorus of high pitched squeaking as he closes the door to his small home, and beelines to the line of cages on the far side of the living room. Unlatching the five cages, the rabbits chattering their teeth excitedly in them eagerly hop over to him, happy to have their caretaker and food-provider home.

Like usual, he ends up falling asleep curled up on the couch with his small friends hopping around him and eating the greens and hay he refilled earlier in their cages. Unlike usual, red eyes and black hair stare at and speak to him in his sleep, repeating the same phrase over and over to images of oddly angled necks and crushed skulls.

_You’re close._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And after two years, it's finally here. Sorry it's so boring. ^^;
> 
> This is mainly a set-up chapter, tying up everything needed to start the real action. Look forward to action, violence, and more interactions between Komaeda and Hinata. Plus some new characters!
> 
> Also, I'd love it if anyone could point out any errors here. I do have some people who help me edit, but things always slip through.
> 
> Let's hope the next chapter won't take nearly as long to make. Thanks for reading!
> 
> (P.S. Wonder if anyone has figured out the killer... ;) )


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